


A Lesson of Vulnerability

by eldfriend



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: The Sacred Stones
Genre: M/M, Strip Chess, there's no heterosexual explanation for this dcndkslcdlsc
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-17
Updated: 2019-12-17
Packaged: 2021-02-25 05:08:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21830497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eldfriend/pseuds/eldfriend
Summary: (based on: https://textsfromtheemblem.tumblr.com/post/168511295043)Just a game of strip chess between boyfriends. This does end in detailed sex, so you've been warned. Thank you to my two loyal friends for egging me on and helping me plan this.
Relationships: Ephraim/Lyon (Fire Emblem)
Kudos: 15





	A Lesson of Vulnerability

Ephraim found the prince of Grado surrounded by tomes of mysterious origin in candlelight. It took the prince one finger twirl in midair before he could perceive a person in among his “natural surroundings,” as another Magvellian prince he had known liked to joke. 

“Eph. Come to pay respects for the work I’m doing here?”

“On the contrary, Lyon. Do you usually have that many circles under your eyes?”

“So you see I’ve been studying.”

“I see more than that. I see a boy in need of a break, if I’ve ever seen a boy.”

“I take breaks!”

“Do you?” Ephraim narrowed his eyes. “Eirika and I haven’t seen you leave this room since...ten at night. It’s three in the morning. I know dark mages have this complex where they want to work at night for the sake of dark magic, but they’ve nocturnalized themselves for a reason. I can’t remember the last time you’ve been resting, and I don’t want to see you run yourself into the ground.” He paused. “What would your father say?”

“My father always told me a prepared king is a perfect king. I’ve been trying to live by his words every chance I get, making my own chances if I have to. Seriously, Eph, it hasn’t been that long.” Ephraim bit his lip, staring at the shape of Lyon’s inkwell as he tried his best to collect his thoughts. At last, he responded.

“Well, maybe I’m challenging you to take a break.” He adjusted the way he bit his lip, turning his gaze to Lyon.

“What are your terms?” The prince looked at Ephraim, an intriguing look in his violet eyes.

“If I win, you’re taking a break, including getting the sleep I know you need,” said Ephraim with a wink. ”And if you win, perhaps I will not bother you for twenty-four hours. If I were offering these terms to one of our mutual acquaintances, I would not try quite as hard to respect that, but let’s just say that since you’re nicer than him, and actually doing work that is heavily needed in the world, you have more than my undivided respect.” Lyon nodded as he gently rolled one of the ancient scrolls back into a neat roll.

“Then, it seems a battle of wits is in order. A game of minds and  _ men _ .” The prince pushed an astray strand of hair back behind his crown. “Ephraim, now I understand this may be quite, um, unknown to you, or you may be quite out of practice, but I don’t suppose, by any chance, you’ve heard of a game known quite simply as...chess?” The prince of Renais drank the sarcasm of his colleague almost like one would a fine wine. He smiled.

“Yes, but I have to make sure of something.” A slight blush rose in the prince. “If I am familiar with the rules of chess, along with each captured piece the player losing a man also loses a garment, as to learn a lesson of vulnerability?” He pursed his lips, an expectant glimmer in his eyes. Lyon, on the other hand, was quite distant in a train of thought, but a moment later he seemed to surface from that.

“I assume then, that when there’s nothing left to lose, it’s clear who has won and who has lost. If that is the case, I suppose it is time to learn another important lesson in such a showdown then, isn’t it?” Ephraim snaked his arm closer and reached for Lyon’s hand, leading him into a destined fight neither one of them would forget.

Thirty minutes later, they decided chess was best on the rug in front of the hearth in Ephraim’s room, especially since every sittable item of furniture in the prince’s room was towering with armor. He was fiddling with a compartment in the chess board. “Are you in need of pieces, or–”

“I’m good, actually. You do know that since this is the game of royals, I always carry a set on me when staying with friends, yes?” Lyon retrieved a small chest from his robes about the size of a loaf of bread, and from it he produced a set of chess pieces cut from lavender crystal. Somehow, the king piece was cut to look almost like him. Ephraim could feel his heart trying to leave his chest. He suddenly remembered where his own set was, and moved toward a cabinet he hadn’t opened in years.

“I have my own set, too. My father gave it to me for my eighteenth birthday, when I became a man. He told me I’d know when fate would urge me to use these to fight a foreseen battle, but I don’t think this is what he meant. I mean, these are gold and bronze, but I wouldn’t be surprised if this was, like, a really clever way of hiding the Sacred Stone. Urgh, it’s three and a half, why did I tell you that? You won’t remember that bit, will you?”

“Honestly, I tuned out halfway through that I think. There’s something calming about strategy and gambit, and setting up the pieces on the board so the light hits them the right way. Of course, the light always hits you the right way, and this might be an experiment in that.”

“We will see. Can you defeat little old me?” Ephraim held up his king, also a small figurine of himself.

“King against king against prince against prince. Shall we begin?” Lyon put a hand on the side of his face to brace it a little, starting to realize just how tired he was.

“Yes, if you would make the first move.”

“Hm, maybe you should. Maybe you already have. Maybe we should keep this going.” Lyon shook his hair out of his eyes so he could see a handsome face more clearly.

“Alright, if you insist.” Ephraim slid a pawn forward on his right, returning Lyon’s expectant gaze.

“And so it really begins.” Lyon rubbed his right index finger and thumb together, and the pawn in front of his queen moved forward in the midst of a comet of dark flame. It landed seemingly unharmed.

“Well okay, magic boy, let me just  _ move _ this  _ bishop _ with my actual  _ hands _ ,” said Ephraim, moving the bishop a square with his actual hands. Not a second later, a flaming bishop knocks Ephraim’s lone pawn off the board with a dramatic flair. “You know what this means, choose carefully.” Lyon holds his hands together in front of his chest. Ephraim unclasps his cloak, and balls it up, along with the pauldrons attached, and throws it far. The cloak ball lands with a resounding clunk from the opposite side of the room, but Lyon’s attention is on Ephraim’s broad, although still somewhat covered, shoulders. “This is a learning experience.” The prince of Renais inches forward a pawn, this time on the other side. It could be taken by Lyon’s pawn, on the diagonal. Again, Ephraim considers his heart could be taken by Lyon’s, also on the diagonal. Of something.

Instead, Lyon’s flames envelop a knight, carrying him forward. The prince of Renais knew what he had to do, almost by instinct. “L for Lyon?” asks Ephraim. “You know there are consequences for that.” Ephraim moves his contested pawn and knocks over Lyon’s. His opponent moves a hand towards his face, and then kicks his boots off. “ I knew you'd do that," purred Lyon, "but sometimes strength in vulnerability is acquired from the sacrifices one makes." He smiles at Ephraim to make sure he's listening, and then continues. "I see your fighting spirit all over the place, but tonight your eyes reflect it handsomely." Ephraim feels a rush of warmth to his face, almost powerful enough to make him want to bury it…somewhere… But out of the corner of his eye, he sees a knight piece with a subsiding flame around it suddenly in the square he placed his pawn a moment ago. 

"Lyon, you…you did that…"

"I did."

"You knew exactly what you were doing, you clever bastard."

"That's right. Now, this is a game, and there are rules. I like having friends that follow rules, even if they end up to be something more." The prince of Grado looks at Ephraim with the inquisitive look he usually looks at the more sensitive books in the library with. Ephraim unclasps his boots as well, chucking them in the direction of his cape. They each land with a sharp clang. The blue-haired prince forces himself to focus on the game, but he finds himself thinking more thoughts staring back at Lyon than he does when he looks down at the board. Gingerly, he holds the shoulders of his queen with his thumb and forefinger as he brings it out. Lyon nods in response, and a moment later violet flames envelop one of his right-hand pawns as it slides forward. “You made a bold move with your queen, didn’t you?” 

“You don’t know how bold I can be when vulnerability is involved.” 

Ephraim flicks his queen right down the row at one of Lyon’s pawns. He adjusts her so she stands where the pawn did, patting her shoulder and taking the man for himself. Lyon has removed his thick socks, which he wads into a ball he puts in one of his boots. “Well, that certainly woke me up.” The knight nearest the queen is suddenly cloaked in a halo of dark flame as it hovers toward the other side of the board. “I don’t suppose you have any additional tricks up your sleeve, Ephraim, do you?”

“That sounds like an invitation to me,” the blue-haired prince responds as he moves his right-hand bishop to replace the square where one of Lyon’s more adventurous knights was, locking his opponent’s gaze in a smolder. It takes Lyon a moment to register what Ephraim’s taken from him, but with a half smile he reaches for his cloak and unclasps it, revealing more of his robes and ornate breastplate. He balls up the removed layer and sets it behind him on the rug. As his half smile turns to a full smile, he sits back down and a rook catches fire as it moves a square.

“Were you expecting to be at such a loss like that?” asks Ephraim. “I mean, if I was you, I wouldn’t be getting too comfortable,” he says with a wink as he moves his bishop to take one of Lyon’s pawns, pinning his king. “I believe that’s called a check? Anyway, I definitely captured a piece.”

“Bold of you to assume the game isn’t over yet,” Lyon purrs as he reaches for his belt. He releases it, rolls it, and tucks it with the rest of his removed layers. “A king is always expected to fight back.” Lyon’s king is enveloped with dark flames, with its eyes glowing violet, as it pushes Ephraim’s bishop out of the way. “And a king is fair, following the rules he worked with others to set, right?” A blush fills Ephraim’s face as he removes his socks and throws them at the chair his previous layers landed near. It’s clear to him, there’s only one move to make. One chess move, that is. 

“All these things hold true for queens, I suppose, right? They’re quite powerful, last time I checked.” Ephraim knocks over the leftmost pawn he can with his queen. 

“I know I have to remove a layer, and this is a lovely little game the two of us are playing tonight,” says Lyon as he leans a bit closer to his companion. “Uh, I usually have someone get the back of this breastplate so I can take it off. I would not be one to awaken any servants, I care about everyone else’s sleep.” He smiles politely. “I’ll help you with yours if you, uh, deal with mine,” he says, awkwardly gesturing to both of their princely breastplates. Ephraim nods, and he scoots over behind the other prince. “What was that phrase that’s fresh in Grado now?” Lyon feels a sudden rush of warm breath welcome his neck, blowing his lilac hair against it a bit. “That was it. Bold of you to assume I’ll be losing my breastplate tonight.” With a click, the breastplate is loose in Ephraim’s hands. Lyon slides out of the armholes like a ferret through a burrow, while Ephraim turns the breastplate over, puzzling himself with the details. “This is ornate, and a bit too oddly-shaped to be practical. You have actual armor that will protect you in battle, right? I mean, I can see you have actual collarbones now, but you do have something to protect more than those, right?” Lyon blinks, and his expression loses a little certainty. “My measurements were taken last week. Father says if I make enough headway with my studies, I’ve earned enough worth to be a protected king,” He looks at Ephraim, and his voice lowers. “I’ve been under a lot of pressure from him. That’s why I have not, uh, been taking care of myself the way I should. I’m afraid I will waste my time.” 

“Lyon, you need a break, but I can also offer you a hug, you might need one.” The prince of Grado nods, and is surrounded by arms and warmth returns. “You know, my friend L’arachel says that sometimes you can’t rush magic, you’re not meant to force magic out of your hands or your tome or whatever. I’d like to be able to always defend Renais with my spear all hours of the day, but I get tired. Which is why last year I taught Eirika the sword.” The two have just accepted by this point that they’re cuddling, but Ephraim continues. “You’re an only child, so all of the pressure is on you to lead and maintain the hope of Grado, yada yada yada. But you yourself did tell me that self-care is a necessary part of being a king so that I could tell you later when you actually need it.” Ephraim strokes Lyon’s hair a little. “And taking a break will help you declutter up here, so you can be sharper when you need to.” For a moment, they say nothing, soaking up each others’ affection, warmth, words, and all of their implications. 

After a while, a visible Lyon at last surfacing from the pent-up anxiety and lethargy holds his left hand out, fingers almost as if ready to snap, and dark flame engulfs a pawn, carrying it a square forward. Wordlessly but not without a smile, Ephraim carefully reaches over the board and moves a pawn forward. “Feeling better?”

“Yes, I guess I am. If I can focus on the game, I don’t have to worry about...other things.” A bishop floats one square forward, a faint glow around it. “If you’re not feeling great, you don’t have to make a show. I’m fascinated by you enough as it is, and I think you already know that.” Lyon blushes as Ephraim moves his knight forward awkwardly from the wrong (or right?) side of the board. While holding one of Ephraim’s hands, he grabs a rook on his right and moves it closer to his bishop on that side of the board. Ephraim squeezes his companion’s hand in quick pulses as he inches his bishop forward with his free hand.

Lyon perks up, looking first at his pieces and then at Ephraim. “My king...and my king…” With his free hand, he moves his king into safety while also giving his prince’s hand some longer presses. Ephraim chuckles, and squeezes Lyon’s hand three times again in quick succession. Then, he moves his queen back with his free hand. Lyon repeats his two long presses again while moving his knight forward with another. “You know, before was kind of nice, but there is pleasure in this as well.” Ephraim grins as he moves his knight back, but not before keeping up his three quick squeezes. “There are other ways to please you that I have in mind, but hey, it is late, and you know what you need most.” Lyon looks up at him with a kindness in his eyes. “Thanks, that really means a lot.” He gives Ephraim’s hand the long presses as he slides one rook to the right side of the board. Ephraim reprises his quick squeezes as he moves his queen over to the middle of the row. “If I’m going to be stuck, in, well, this kind of situation, you’re definitely the top person I’d want to be stuck in it with.” He chuckles, and Lyon’s blush intensifies. The lilac-haired prince turns to his companion as he reaches for a bishop. “But what if I’m the one getting you more stuck?” Lyon’s bishop is suddenly one square from taking Ephraim’s queen. He can feel his palms sweat, but he also feels two long presses from Lyon. 

“I almost forgot this was a lesson in vulnerability, love,” replies Ephraim, scooting his queen back to safety while administering that same triplet beat of squeeze to Lyon’s hand. “You could have taken her, but...you didn’t.” He tilts his head at Lyon.

“You seem to forget that chess isn’t just about moving pieces, dear,” says Lyon as he nudges his queen one square forward with just his index finger. He presses Ephraim’s hand like a delicate flower destined for safekeeping as he speaks. “It’s a game of strategy. You are going to be a king, and a king cannot just be good at fighting alone.“ Lyon gives Ephraim a half-smile. “He has to know where to put his heart, and his forces.”

“Well, I know sometimes my heart goes with my forces, and sometimes it goes with my knights,” says Ephraim as he places a knight a bit more forward of where it was, “and I think by now you understand who has stolen much of it. But it’s no crime.” He chuckles again, and Lyon leans close to hear the hearty laugh of a man with a big heart. Ephraim punctuates the night again with three quick squeezes, and strokes Lyon’s hair some more. While giving his companion’s hand those same two long presses, Lyon moves the rook nearest his king right next to his king, just a square away. “Look, it’s us.” He can feel Ephraim’s three quick squeezes. The blue-haired prince asks, “But who’s the rook and who’s the king in this scenario?” Lyon clicks his tongue.

“I’d say a true king is whoever ends up winning, hm?”

“Well, not that I’m not already doing that, but I suppose I need to take every precaution to make sure I end up winning your heart, right?” Ephraim reaches over the board and moves his own rook closer to his king. “Copycat,” says Lyon.

“Hey, you know me. I always make sure I learn from the best.” Ephraim feels two long presses from Lyon’s hand as the lilac-haired prince reaches for a knight and places it right next to Ephraim’s. “So why did you do that?” asks Ephraim, sending Lyon’s hand three short pulses.

“Well, you want to learn from the best, right?”

“Yes.”

“Look at where my knight is, and, uh, look where your bishops are.” Ephraim notices one of his bishops is in danger of being captured, and defensively scoots it back. He takes his arm and rests it in his lap. After a moment, Lyon sits up with a calm expression, but some sort of twinkle in his eye, the kind of twinkle Ephraim’s seen when he knows Lyon’s seeing everything come together. With a careful, measured gesture, Lyon seizes his bishop, and sends it across the board, slamming it into Ephraim’s knight. “You understand, Ephraim, I wanted to have and see a knight all along. And now, I get the pleasure of both.” Lyon’s wink meets Ephraim’s face at the reddest he’s been all night. His mouth is a confused line, not sure whether to smile or bend into a frown or blubber into embarrasment. Ephraim swallows a bit, putting his hands on his face. “Well, blast it! I didn’t see that bloody coming, you bastard.“ 

“Don’t forget, I’m still your bastard. I can be. Maybe you’re my bastard. Can bastards have bastards? Can they have each other in bastardship?” Lyon stops when he sees Ephraim glare at him, and he feels his gut freeze with Ephraim’s icy look. “You need a moment. I’ll let you have that.”

When Ephraim’s less red and more collected, he looks at Lyon. “I think it’s time to take you up on that offer for before. It’s only fair.” They rise, and Lyon sets to work on Ephraim’s breastplate. “This is definitely simpler than mine, and the metalwork is actually intuitive here. If you wouldn’t mind lifting your arms, that would be perfect.”

“Lyon, I’m taller than you.”

“Right, it’s late and I seem to have forgotten that. Do what you wish, the back’s open.” Ephraim starts fiddling with the shoulder straps. “Hey, how did I miss those?” asks a surprised Lyon.

“It’s okay, love,” says Ephraim as he lowers his breastplate to the floor. “Sometimes, it’s just nice to have a little help, especially after suffering a bit of a defeat.” Ephraim steps out of his breastplate, picks it up, and throws it onto his bed. It lands with a softer thwump. Lyon finds himself trying to picture what lies under that tunic, which he can now observe is delicately woven. “Lyon? Are you there?”

“Yeah, yeah I am. It’s your move, right?”

“I thought it was your move?”

“It is definitely late, that’s for sure. You have to make the next move here, because, you know...” Lyon returns his gaze to his opponent’s tunic. Ephraim facepalms, and sits down behind his side of the board. Suddenly, Lyon sees his opponent’s face glow, as if he’s just realized something new he can do with his spear. Ephraim takes his bishop in the corner and wipes out the bishop that cost him a layer with it. “I made the next move. It was definitely a move you can make in chess, as far as I know. And you can’t prove me wrong, I have the entire rules of chess right here.” As he’s speaking, Ephraim takes and brandishes a book lying by a nearby bookcase, the title of which reads  _ An Oral History of Enchanting Bread in Caer Pelyn _ . “Where did you even get that?” Lyon asks, through laughs as he rises to his feet.

“My father always puts whatever book he’s recently finished in my room. It always smells a little like my sister because it’s spent at least a week with her beforehand. Reading isn’t something I go out of my way to do, but I appreciate Eirika’s occasional footnotes. When she shows me them, that is.” Lyon listens to this intently, clutching the scarflike layer he was about to remove. He nods, and the knit purple and mithril layer is cast aside. Kneeling, Lyon ponders his moves. After a spell (not the magical kind), he retracts his knight. “Is there anything interesting you’ve read lately? Or at all?” 

“Eirika has been keeping a riveting commentary on this one historian’s account of how armor has evolved throughout time. I read her notes rather than read the actual thing, but it’s worth it. She mentions at least ten different Magvellian women responsible for techniques in layering with cloth armor that the author fails to include.” Ephraim slides a pawn forward. “I think that’s the only thing I’ve actually recently read in depth that wasn’t for, you know, a grade.” Ephraim sticks his tongue out.

“You must be proud of your sister. She seems like she really cares about the whole story of this continent.” Lyon nudges a pawn forward to meet Ephraim’s.

“Yes, and I care about defending it to the best of my ability.” Ephraim slips his bishop out in the middle of Lyon’s territory. “I also care about you a lot, if this is the first time you’re hearing this.”

“I reciprocate that,” Lyon says as he smoothly places the rook formerly closest to his king a few squares in front of it. “So what happens next?”

“I’m going to try winning this game.” Ephraim grabs his remaining knight and moves it forward, situated behind the pawn he had previously advanced. 

“I think the weakest word in that sentence was  _ try.  _ An attempt was certainly made,” purrs Lyon, “but you must be reminded this is a lesson of vulnerability.” As he says this, the lilac-haired prince slams his right-hand rook at Ephraim’s pawn in that row. In response, the blue-haired prince frowns as he fiddles with his belt, and Lyon can see that his hips are very capable, just like the rest of him. He casts it toward the pile of armor on the chair, and it resounds with a clunk. Ephraim looks back at his opponent expectantly. “So, I believe it’s your move?” Lyon nods, returning that with a bit of a sultry gaze.

“No, it’s Innes’ move.”

“He’s not even staying here, is he?”

“Nah, he’s been busying himself with his brand-new spy network. That man’s been keeping tabs on Rausten a lot for some reason. Anyway, I was being sarcastic. It’s your move and I don’t really want to talk about the green-haired menace.” Ephraim moves his knight towards the middle of the board.

“I completely understand.” Lyon nudges his king a square forward. Ephraim slicks some of his hair out of his eyes, and then he moves his right-hand rook behind his queen. “Hey, Lyon, I just had an idea.” Ephraim bites his lip, locking eyes with his opponent. “What if I just smoldered you with a look during your turn? I’m sure the rules of chess allow it.” Lyon blushes, and sighs. “I’m not sure this is what I expected to be part of your chess strategy,” he says, moving his king back behind a pawn, “but it seems two can also play this game.” He licks his lips. 

“You look like you’re gonna eat one of my pieces. Maybe...don’t do that?” Ephraim shuffles his knight closer to Lyon’s knight before regaining eye contact with Lyon. The lavender-haired prince turns his gaze to the board and laughs a little. “This is becoming a staring contest with harder rules. I’m not sure what will happen next. But my only queen feels safe behind her only knight,” he says as he moves his queen into place. “What about yours, Lyon?” The prince had picked up his queen, and Ephraim was curious. Lyon scanned the board, calculating his move. At last, he neatly placed his queen directly behind the rook nearest his knight. He looks at Ephraim and licks his lips again. Ephraim sees a bit of dread in Lyon’s eyes, and while engaging in this staredown with a look that could melt steel, he takes the rook defending Lyon’s queen with his knight. Lyon rests his face in his hands for a spell again.

“It’s, what, almost four now? I don’t care. You know, I really don’t care about anything else.” Lyon stands up and removes his long-sleeved robe, only to reveal a slightly mauve robe of thinner linen underneath. He balls the discarded robe. “I just care about winning this game, and seeing what lovely things will happen between us next.” Lyon takes Ephraim’s knight with his queen. The blue-haired prince just smiles at him and removes his gloves. Ephraim throws them onto his bed, where they land with a thump. “I have a strange feeling this won’t be in vain. You don’t have nothing to lose, not just yet.” He takes the pawn next to Lyon’s queen with his queen, so that it threatens the prince of Grado’s king on a diagonal. “Oh, would you look at that. It seems I’ve caught you in a check again, love.” Ephraim removes his hand from his queen, but his focus lingers on Lyon. The prince shakes a little, but unlike other times, he stands right up. “There is strength in vulnerability, Ephraim. It’s helped me be more open tonight with my feelings and my love. And you, of course. Those last two are kind of one and the same.”

Lyon rises and starts fiddling with the hook and button on the back of his robe, back to Ephraim. The prince of Renais asks, “You need help there? This is probably like one of an unfathomable amount of layers if the rumors are true, right? Did I make a mistake by agreeing to this?”

“I don’t need any help with this part, trust me. And no real mistakes have been made...yet.” A few seconds, the hook falls loose and Lyon starts lifting the mauve robe over his head. Ephraim sees the layer under is more of a heather-purple, very translucent, but what he notices most as it’s revealed is that while it tickles the back of Lyon’s legs and covers most of his back, there is only air separating Ephraim from what looks like, to him, an ass that will not quit.

“The rumors could not be any more false.” Lyon smiles and lays out the layer under him like a little blanket. As he bends over to do this, Ephraim’s eyes follow the prince’s butt until he sits down. 

“You look like you’ve been enjoying this, Ephraim.”

“You’re not wrong. In fact, you’re more than right.” 

“Then you’ll enjoy this.” Lyon dispatches Ephraim’s queen with his own.

“I know I will, but I’m not sure if you’re ready for what comes next.” Ephraim removes his tunic, showing the full extent of his rippling abs. Lyon blushes as Ephraim’s biceps flex a bit as he yanks his head out of the tunic’s collar, and he feels his face rush with more heat as he sees Ephraim’s back muscles ripple as he crumples the tunic into a ball, yeeting it onto the bed. 

“Ephraim, you were definitely right about that.”

“Well, now that I’ve got your eyes on me, know that this is not what I was referring to earlier.” Ephraim gestures to his chest. “In fact, this is what I meant.” With his beefy arm, he picks up his left-hand rook and slams it against Lyon’s queen, toppling it. Ephraim can hear a flutter in Lyon’s breathing as he begins fumbling for his long garment, raising it around his thin legs, past a cock glistening with excitement, above his thin waist, past his bare chest, and over his head. Ephraim, upon seeing the naked prince, gasps in sheer awe of what he beholds. “You see, I had a feeling you were this handsome. Do you mind if I join you?” The blue-haired prince winks at Lyon, who smiles in return. “If this is going where I’d like it to go, we really should do something about that bed, don’t you think?” 

“On it already.” A suddenly pantsless Ephraim approaches his bed, and Lyon is taken aback by the prince’s magnificently toned glutes. It takes a dazed Lyon thirty seconds of watching the prince carry out this chore before he remembers something, and retrieves a small flask from his robes. “So, to be perfectly clear and unequivocal, would you care to join me in some sex?” 

“To be perfectly clear and unequivocal, yes, I would love to have sex with my boyfriend.”

“Pleasing to hear, love.” Lyon brings the flask up to his face, uncorks it, pours out a good amount of the fluid inside, and rubs it along his shaft. “Excuse me, I don’t want to kill the mood, but is that a Frelian vulnerary?”

“No, I see how you’d think that. I know my liquids as a mage, and due to some common ingredients based on fish oil in that area, Frelian lubricant is commonly mistaken for vulneraries.”

“Oh, well, you know I will be bothering a certain green-haired prince at a later date about this. Anyway, are you ready?”

“As I’ll ever be.” Lyon approaches the bed to see Ephraim spread wide across it, his larger form flexing his many muscles. He shoots the blue-haired prince a sultry look as he mounts the bed, pinning Ephraim’s buff arms down and topping the prince’s mighty chest with his own as he leans down for a passionate kiss. Lyon can feel Ephraim’s heat and power as the prince heaves intensely up and down under him, and Lyon tries his best to keep up, locking his hips and shaft against Ephraim’s. As he feels himself overpowered by the force from below, Lyon bites Ephraim’s lip and feels his whole form quiver. Using this opportunity, Lyon doubles down on the pelvic thrusting, and Ephraim feels like he’s becoming one with the sheets as he drinks in the prince that bites back. Suddenly, he sees Lyon break away from him, and gesture for Ephraim to turn over. He does, and once again his perfect ass comes into view. “When you’re ready, Ephraim, I’d like you on your knees.” 

“As you wish, my love.” Ephraim gets into position, bracing himself on his forearms. Lyon begins, holding onto his lower back for support, ramming and railing like there’s no tomorrow. In and out and in and out and in and out and in and out goes the rhythm of their love, and Ephraim is relieved to feel coolness under him as the heat of passion continues.  _ Even if Lyon gets a little wild in his moves, there was always a grace with which they were delivered _ , thought Ephraim. He heard Lyon’s rapid breathing as he penetrated repeatedly and as fast as he could muster, and both of their hearts fluttered. Ephraim re-flexed his glutes as hard as his dick was at the moment, and re-straightened his back. Lyon adjusted accordingly, keeping the tempo as steady as he could. This carried on for a few minutes before Ephraim felt Lyon’s cock leave his ass and the two of them flopped down next to each other in a hot, sticky mess. The night was silent other than the faint crackles of a fire that was finally beginning to die down and their own breathing. Arms and legs found their way around each other as the two began to doze off. Finally, Ephraim turned to Lyon. “We knew this was where the night was headed, but getting head aside, you and I should get some sleep. I did win, after all.”

“Oh, that was all part of the plan.”

“Hey, I tried my best out there, and I won. What do you mean?” 

“I mean to say that maybe having you here, in this way, in this position, is probably the most effective way to get me in bed, since having you here as well is more than favorable. All of that penetration tired me a lot more than the chess did, anyway.”

“So my tired prince is tired, huh? And he finally recognizes it. I can respect him for that, and I love him for it.”

“I love you too as well. Goodnight, good knight.”

“Goodnight, my champion.”

**Author's Note:**

> The end....or is it? This took me about a year to write asynchronously, but I have plans for a second chapter in the works, and a new player may enter the game. What will happen? Wait and see!
> 
> Cheers,  
> Eldfriend


End file.
